Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Because you never saw me as a burden. You raised me as your own daughter, playing with me and helping with homework on evenings when you were probably exhausted from days of manual labor. You taught me how to ride a bike and throw a punch. You loved me and grandma with your whole, huge heart.
I can’t say those things, though. It’ll confuse and upset him.
“You remind me so much of my grandpa,” I say instead. “He was the best man I’ve ever known.”
Our lunch of roast beef, mashed potatoes and green beans is delivered to our table right then. I asked the staff on the way to Grandpa’s room if they’d deliver it to us here in the lounge so I could have some time alone with him. But he immediately picks up on the change in his routine and gets agitated.
“No, I don’t eat here,” he tells the woman trying to unload our plates from a rolling cart. “Where’s Millie? I always eat with my Millie.”
“It’s okay,” I tell the woman with the cart. “We’ll go into the dining room and sit with Millie.”
“Someone got confused,” Grandpa says to me. “I don’t eat here.”
“We’ll move.”
He gives me a wary look. “Don’t you have family you should be with today? It’s Christmas.”
My heart aches. I feel the actual, physical soreness of it. The grandpa I knew and loved so fiercely isn’t here anymore. But I have to make due with what’s left—it’s better than nothing.
“I’m just staying for lunch,” I tell him. “I have plans later for dinner.”
“You got a fella buying you something pretty for Christmas?”
I shake my head and offer him my arm as he eases up from his seat at the table. “No. My husband and I aren’t on good terms. I wish he’d give me a divorce for Christmas.”
Grandpa’s face falls. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.”
“No.” He shakes his head adamantly. “The measure of a man is in how happy his woman is. You can take that to the bank.”
I smile at the glimmer of the grandpa I know and love. He said that often, telling his friends to man up and apologize to their wives to restore peace to their households. And there was never a happier woman than my grandma.
Millie is waiting at the usual table she and my grandpa share in the dining room. She’s beaming, dressed in a sparkly red sweater and Christmas tree earrings. When grandpa kisses her cheek, I get a warm sense of peace.
He’s happy here. Well-cared for. Whatever I have to do to keep him at Goodman House is worth it. He sacrificed much more for me than I ever will for him.
After my visit with him, I pick up a few last-minute things and then Anita, Dre and I take an Uber to Anton’s. I still feel wary about us being here—it’s Anton’s family, after all.
I think Anita must feel the same way; she’s clutching Dre’s hand and cautioning him about breaking things the entire elevator ride up to Anton’s floor. I didn’t tell her about the literal mountain of toys Anton bought before Dre came over here for the first time.
When Anton opens the front door, though, my worries vanish. Christmas music and laughter float out of the apartment. He looks relaxed and happy in a blue and grey flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, worn jeans and brown boots.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, smiling awkwardly.
I want to step forward and hug him, but the last time I hugged him, it affected us both. Anton and I need to stay hands-off.
“Merry Christmas, guys,” he says, reaching out to take the bags I’m carrying.
He steps aside and Alexei approaches immediately, taking Anita’s bags. I introduce everyone and Alexei gives me a knowing look as he greets me, making me wonder what Anton said about me.
“We brought mac and cheese,” I tell Anton. “And cookies.”
“Perfect.”
He told me we didn’t need to bring anything, but Anita wasn’t having that.
“You should’ve called me; I would’ve come down to the car to carry all this up for you,” he says.
“Nah, we had it.”
A girl and a boy, both older than Dre, sweep him away to play in another room. Anton pours drinks for me and Anita and soon I find myself sitting at the end of the long sectional, next to Dix’s recliner.
“Merry Christmas,” I say.
He groans in the way I’ve come to expect. “Suppose you brought me some watery oatmeal to eat during dinner.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “I think we both know you’ve been eating quite well.”
He quirks his lips up in a rare smile. Since that first day, Dix hasn’t called me a foul name even once. We’ve had bacon and eggs—and once, donuts I snuck past Anton in my bag—at the kitchen table every morning.
Laura Carr sits down next to me and pats my knee. “I can’t thank you enough for putting up with my brother,” she says.